


i'll tell you the truth so close to your lips it'll taste like a lie

by majesdane



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-13
Updated: 2009-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She's still thinking about all these things later, when JJ finds her; she hasn't come to any conclusions.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll tell you the truth so close to your lips it'll taste like a lie

_  
la parole nous a été donnée pour déguiser notre pensée._

 

 

Emily waits for her after classes at her locker, doesn't even know if Effy even _uses_ her locker, is half-afraid that Effy is going to show up after all, because she really does not want to have this conversation. Her shoulder's aching from carrying around her bag full of hers -- and Katie's -- books, so she moves to set it aside; when she looks up, Effy's there, face blank, eyes still such an unfortunately brilliant blue color.

"I um, have to talk to you about something," Emily says, amazed that she's able to look at Effy straight on while she says it, because she's nervous as fuck and her stomach is doing flip-flops. "I mean, uh, what you saw -- heard -- the other day at the rave." She pauses, hopes Effy will say something so she won't have to continue.

Effy doesn't say anything.

Emily braces herself, says, "I'm not -- well, I do like . . . but, I don't," she stumbles, blushes, has to look away. Manages a fierce, "I'm _not_."

"Never said you were gay," Effy says, as nonchalant as all that, and Emily can't help but flinch a bit at the word, _gay_ , because she knows it and Effy (probably, most likely) knows it, but she's not quite up to talking about it out loud just yet, especially not with Effy Stonem, who she barely knows.

"Right. Well." She flushes again, feels her face grow even warmer. "Don't tell anyone, yeah?"

Effy shrugs. "Who and what's to tell?"

 

;;

 

It's not something that she ever intended to happen, sitting here on the grass, annoying sober but too sick of always being fucked up to finish off the bottle of Pinot Gringo between her legs. She's been sitting there for some time when Effy walks up, sit down across from her, asks how things are.

Emily shrugs, sniffs, feels decidedly rejected, but doesn't want to tell Effy that.

Effy kisses her.

It's not brilliant, really, she doesn't feel the same butterflies in her stomach that she feels when Naomi kisses her, but it's not bad either. Different, she thinks, and maybe it's for that reason or the fact that Naomi seems to never actually want to be with her when she's sober and she just wants to feel wanted, for _once_ , that Emily pushes back into the kiss, lips still tingling even after Effy's pulled away.

"What," she says, flushing, when Effy just stares at her, her expression blank.

"You liked that," she says, not condescending or smug or accusatory, just with a straight face, completely matter-of-fact, and she clenches her jaw, because yes, it's true, she did like it, and it takes every part of her to not nod her head in response.

"We could do it again," Effy says, and this time she smirks, probably because she knows she has the upper hand. "You know, if you wanted. We could get fucked up good and proper beforehand -- that would make you feel better, wouldn't it?"

"No," Emily sighs, her head spinning, suddenly feeling very tired, pushes her away. "Fuck off."

 

;;

 

The second time it happens, she's completely off her tits, letting Cook wrap his arms around her, grope her wildly, press sloppy kisses along her neck. And then Katie interferes, because she always does, tugs her away from Cook, from everyone else. She spots Naomi and Effy standing together, off to the side; she tries to catch Naomi's eye, but Naomi looks away, suddenly finds the cuff of her sleeve rather intriguing.

Effy matches her gaze though, just for a second, stares straight at and through her.

Later, after Katie's left her alone, cold and shivering outside the club, wishing she could stop crying and that she'd thought to bring a coat, Effy appears by her side, offers her a lit cigarette. She murmurs "Thanks," takes a shaky drag of it, hands it back without a word, because she really doesn't think a fag will make her feel any better.

Effy takes a drag as well, flicks it away, and Emily thinks, what a waste, right before Effy pushes her up against the cool brick wall and kisses her roughly. They break apart an instant later; Emily stares at her wide eyed, licks her lips, tastes strawberries beneath vodka and cigarettes.

"What the fuck?" She manages, but Effy doesn't offer an explanation, just stares at her, expectantly, as if _she's_ somehow supposed to know what to do and say. She says, "Where's Naomi?"

It's a slight shrug that Effy gives her, a simple, "Still inside, I guess," and Emily just wants to shake her, wants to ask her if she knows that she's on the edge of fucking things up, fucking them up even worse than they are right now. She wants to know what Effy's playing at, kissing her like this, wants to know what she's thinking.

But she's afraid Effy may kiss her again (and afraid even more of actually liking it, Effy's lips against hers), so she pulls back into herself, swipes at her eyes and doesn't even care if she looks like a fucking wreck right now, makeup completely ruined.

So instead she says, "Fuck off, Effy," adds, a moment later, a bit quieter, "please, just leave me a-alone."

Emily sinks to the curb, feeling like she's starting to sober up some, head aching, feeling a bit sick. She sits and thinks about Katie shouting at her before storming off, about Naomi avoiding her gaze, even in a near pitch-black club surrounded by strangers, thinks about the way Effy's hands gripped her shoulders, pinning her to the wall, how her lips felt softer than Emily had imagined they would be.

She's still thinking about all these things later, when JJ finds her; she hasn't come to any conclusions.

 

;;

 

Two weeks, four days later -- not like she's counting -- she ends up kissing Effy in the school bathroom, because she's sick and tired of playing this game, of always chasing and never catching, wanting but never having. And Effy's willing to give where Naomi is not, and it's completely fucked up, but she may as well take what she can get.

And Naomi can't seem to make up her mind, and Emily wants her, she does, wants her so fiercely that often she wakes up with her ribs aching from it all. And she doesn't mind waiting for her, not really, except, she does, and she doesn't want to wait forever.

"Later," Effy says, and it's not a request, just a statement.

 

;;

 

Later means falling into Effy's bed, which is bigger than Naomi's (she can't help but compare everything with Naomi, the way Effy kisses, the deftness of her fingers as she undoes the buttons on Emily's top, the way she tastes), and it's like an ocean, with her drowning in sheets and blankets.

She tries not to think of Naomi when Effy presses rough kisses along her jawline, and it's easier than she thought it would be, forgetting her. She tries to say something, anything, but the words seem stuck in her throat and she can barely breathe. She pulls Effy up, kisses her hard, suddenly angry, bites down on Effy's bottom lip.

It's enough to draw blood, but Effy doesn't say a word, just grins a bit too widely and wipes the blood away delicately with long, slender fingers, moves to bring their mouths crashing back together. Emily can taste copper and cigarettes and Effy doesn't really taste like Naomi at all.

When Effy's hands slide up under her skirt, nails digging into Emily's thighs, she thinks maybe she should stop this, because they've still got a lot to sort out, her and Naomi, and it hasn't helped that she's already fucked someone behind Naomi's back, thinks maybe she should just --

"I won't tell," Effy murmurs in her ear, breath hot, like somehow she knows exactly what Emily's thinking about. "She won't ever find out." A coy smile. "Unless you want her to."

"Shut up," Emily groans, pushes against Effy's shoulders until they've rolled over. Effy, below her, smirks; Emily kisses her roughly, tries to wipe it away. She tries to pretend her knickers aren't completely soaked through, when she pushes Effy's dress up, kisses her stomach, squeezes her breasts through her bra, feels her nipples harden through the thin material.

Effy doesn't speak again, barely even makes a sound, except for a half-muffled groan when she comes with a small shudder. Emily sits up, licks her lips, her fingers, as Effy watches her through half-open eyes. And then they switch; Effy's hands make their way down the front of Emily's knickers, which are soon after yanked roughly down. Effy slides her tongue along the inside of Emily's thigh, pushing her fingers in deeper; Emily bites back a moan, digs her nails into Effy's shoulders.

It's not the same as when she's with -- _was_ with -- Naomi. She's acutely aware of the differences, with Effy's tongue pressed flat against her clit, her fingers working smoothly in and out. It's very different indeed.

But it's also not bad.

 

;;

 

When they fuck again, less than a week later, Emily says, "I don't even think you like me. Why are you doing this?"

Effy smiles in that knowing way of hers that Emily finds absolutely infuriating. "Do I need a reason?"

No, Emily thinks, as Effy's hands flit across the flat plane of her stomach, creep lower until they're between her legs, stroking lightly, purposefully. No, she doesn't think they need a reason at all.


End file.
